Daughter Of Mine
by AssortedFudge
Summary: Yaxley: faithful Death Eater, devoted father, until the day comes when his two worlds come colliding violently together and he is given the one impossible order by his Master, who has his own sinister interests in the Yaxley family. Rating will go up.
1. Prologue

_I got the writing bug! This is a first attempt at a more serious story so hope I can pull it off._

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><p><strong><em>Prologue<em>**

_12 April 1996 - Present_

Tears leaked down her face and she made no move to wipe them away. She just stared. Her dark brown eyes seemed to bore right into his soul and the hand clutching his wand trembled. His voice was no better.

"You know I have no choice," he rasped. Why wouldn't his damn hand stop shaking?

"There is always a choice, Father," she whispered sounding so much stronger than he, despite her tears. "I've made mine, and in turn you have made yours. That's how the universe works."

The wand pointed at her heart wavered slightly.

"How can you be so calm?" he whispered. Tears were now swimming in his own eyes and he furiously tried to blink them back. "You're about to die…"

"I know," was the simple reply. "I've always known, Father. There could be no other alternative than this moment."

A sob left his mouth at her words. If the other Death Eaters could see him now… the weak emotional man standing in the gardens of the Yaxley family home was a far cry from the frightening sadist they knew, the man who seemed to take a perverse joy in the tortured screams of his victims. This man was vulnerable, _pathetic. _A soft breeze blew through the trees around them, making him shiver and clutch his wand ever tighter. He had killed exactly 43 people in his service to the Dark Lord. Number 44 would be exactly the same, he tried to tell himself.

"Father."

Her voice dragged him back to the scene before him and he was shocked to see a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's time."


	2. And So It Begins

**So, the set-up I'm planning for the following chapters follows this one - flashback to her childhood with her father - Yaxley trying to carry out his orders in the "present day" timeline for want of a better phrase - flashback to how Lucilla got herself in this mess in the first place. If it's too confusing let me know :) Also I'm quite keen to know how in character I managed to write Voldemort so if you've got the time ... :)**

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><p><em>1 November 1980<em>

"Father! Father, look!"

Yaxley frowned in irritation as he tried to keep his attentions focused on the headlines of the Daily Prophet, which he'd been trying to make time to read all morning. "Not right now."

"Look! You're going to miss it!" she complained.

"Not now, Lucy!" he repeated.

The little girl frowned and the small daisy that had been floating seemingly by itself in the air fell to the floor. Lucilla Margaret Yaxley had her father's blonde hair, hers curled and settled just past her shoulders. She also had her father's temper. Her dark chocolate eyes focused angrily on the mug in her father's hand, which abruptly shattered. Jumping to his feet as hot liquid splashed down him, Yaxley let out a howl of anger and looked up to see his daughter had already disappeared.

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><p><em>30 March 1996<em>

His mouth twisted in distaste, the corners curling into a twisted sneer as he took in the cowering man before him. How a man could allow one girl to make him appear so vulnerable was beyond his comprehension: it disgusted him. Yet still the servant grovelled.

"My Lord, please, I beg of you!" the pathetic moan came from deep inside Yaxley, some tortured and broken part of his soul that was finally coming to the surface in the face of his deepest horror. "Please… do not ask this of me!"

He could not bring himself to look up into those terrifying red eyes, at this moment of sheer fear but he knew what was coming a split second before it happened, allowing time to steal himself against the agony that shortly coursed through his body.

"You question my orders, Yaxley?" came the hiss in reply as he lifted the curse at last.

"No, my Lord!" he replied immediately, an involuntary sob catching in his throat. "But I cannot …"

"Then perhaps you would prefer someone else carry them out?" A horrible smirk played across his pale face. "Greyback, for instance, I hear he is very keen."

Yaxley let out an anguished gasp, yet his master continued, contempt radiating from him as he got to his feet, wand drawn.

"Or I could do the job myself… would that be more your preference?"

"No, My Lord," he whispered, his eyes still downcast.

"Then do what needs to be done. Leave me."

Yaxley got to his feet, still bowing low to avoid eye contact more than a sign of respect, and backed out of the ornately furnished room.

"What have I done?" he moaned, burying his head in his hands.

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><p><em>31 July 1994<em>

Lucy stared, unsatisfied, into the mirror and again tried to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles in her perfectly ironed cloak. Her fingers traced the familiar serpentine 'S' on her house crest before moving along to the new gleaming Prefect badge. In her excitement to begin the new school year she'd tried on her new uniform and begun organising her books already. Her lips curved upwards slightly, for once she was happy with her counterpart staring back at her in the mirror. Usually the complaint that her face was too long, too thin, too pale followed, or that her nose was too crooked, her hair too messy.

"It's the feeling of power," came the soft hiss, she dreaded and was all too familiar with as of late.

She averted her gaze, as her father and a painful episode where she had forgotten his advice had taught her, and said nothing in reply as the man who ruled their lives made his way into the room. As if he owned the place, which in a way she thought bitterly, he of course did. She moved towards her bed where her trunk lay open and half packed and began to busy herself with sorting through again.

"My father is not here," she said managing to keep her voice even as she placed her potions textbook carefully in her trunk.

"I am not here to see him," the Dark Lord replied, a faint hint of amusement tingeing his words. Nagini slithered past Lucy's feet, causing her to shiver with fear as the huge creature curled around her ankles simultaneously trapping her in the room and sending her mind into a wild panic. Her fear of snakes was a running joke in the Slytherin common room and had resulted in endless pranks which now meant she thoroughly checked her bed before getting into it. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing as the next words were spoken in rough hisses.

"_I am here to see you, Lucilla."_

She stammered her reply out in English, now a far cry from the confident Slytherin prefect who had stood before her mirror proudly. "What is it you want from me?"

Nagini hissed suddenly, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the girl caught in her coils. Lucy could feel the blood pounding in her ears, her heart beat was so loud she was sure he could hear it and she was starting to sweat. Such was her terror that she didn't even notice he had been walking toward her until she felt his cold hand grip her chin and force her head upwards.

"_Look at me," _he commanded.

Slowly, her dark eyes met his red ones and she began to tremble at the sight of the man who had given her nightmares as a child. His eyes stared into hers, as if trying to read into her soul.

"_You speak the language of snakes, yet you fear them so," _he said. _"Do you fear me, Lucilla?"_

Her mind screamed out for her father, she was sure these were going to be the last moments of her life. He chuckled and gripped her chin harder, enjoying the terror radiating from her.

"_Your father cannot help you here. Tell me, Lucilla, do you fear me?"_

"_Yes,"_ she whimpered and finally he released her, as did Nagini.

"_Good girl." _He turned on his heel and stalked toward the open bedroom door. "Your lessons will begin tomorrow."

"My lessons?" she repeated but he had already disappeared. She collapsed onto her bed and wept into her hands. What was happening to her?


	3. Painful Lessons

_**Chapter 3 - really liking my idea for where this story is going so expect frequent updates, ye few Yaxley fans who are the only people who read this ha ha. I don't own anything etc. apart from Lucilla (Lucy) Yaxley.**_

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><p><em>23 June 1981<em>

It happened one summer evening while they were visiting friends of the family down in Cornwall… the moment he realised his little Lucy, 5 years old at the time, wasn't the same as the other children. It was just after Helda had died and people were still treading on eggshells around him. Understandably, considering the way it had happened. He knew he was being watched at home and most likely here as well.

A scream from the bottom of the garden alerted him and fellow Death Eater Rowle that something was wrong and they immediately went to investigate. A small grass snake lay coiled up beside the flowerbed, much to the horror of Rowle's eight year old daughter, Adriana, who launched herself into her bemused father's arms as soon as she saw him. He brushed her off impatiently.

"Don't be so ridiculous, Adriana, it will do you no harm," he said shortly.

Yaxley concealed a smirk until he turned his attention to Lucy, who was sitting on the grass looking almost catatonic. She couldn't tear her eyes from the snake, it was almost as if she were bewitched. He shook her shoulder.

"Lucilla?"

A cool breeze blew through the garden and the snake let out a hiss. Whimpering, his daughter opened her mouth and began to hiss back at the snake. Yaxley shivered as the snake slid back into the hedges, out of sight, and pulled her to her feet.

"The day is late, we must get back home," he said shortly to Rowle, who was gaping at the scene he had just witnessed.

Pulling himself together, Rowle nodded, and Yaxley could see the hints of both jealousy and fear in his colleague's eyes. "Have a safe trip. Say goodbye to your guests, Adriana."

Back at the house, Yaxley gripped Lucy's shoulders tightly as he stared into her dark eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"Tell you what?" she replied, trying to squirm out of his vice like hold. "You're hurting me."

"You're a Parselmouth, Lucilla!" Yaxley enforced strongly, without loosening his grip. At her blank look, "You can speak to snakes!"

She began to cry, knowing she had done something wrong but unsure what. "I don't want to go back there, Father. Please don't make me go back there again."

Later that night, he sat up in his study, staring into space. He only knew of one other Parselmouth. The thought of Lucy sharing any traits with him… he knew it should please him, Merlin knew that any of the other Death Eaters would be ecstatic, but he couldn't get rid of the deep sense of foreboding lodged deep in his gut.

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><p><em>31 March 1996<em>

The blossoms on the tree outside her bedroom window were beautiful in Spring. It always made Lucy smile a little to see them, Mother Nature was resilient: not even the dark deeds going on inside the house had an effect on the pretty pink flowers reaching out to the sun. She moved away from the window and settled down with a little difficulty on her bed, pulling out something from underneath her pillow.

Lucy pressed her palm against the old dusty book and it obediently sprang open, as it would for only her. Her eyes scanned the new message and she smiled as she picked up the quill on her bedside table and began to write her message back.

_Yes, he's kicking strongly now. I wish you were here so you could feel it._

Words began appearing on the next line after a few moments.

**Just like his Mama then! I know, Lucy, but it won't be long now. Hang in there and everything will sort itself out**_. _

_Do you promise?_

**I promise.**

A tear slipped from her eye onto the page, it was an empty promise. She knew the end result of the dangerous game she had gotten involved with. More words appeared on the next line of the book as the teardrop soaked into the paper.

**I'm sorry.**

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><p><em>1 August 1994<em>

"Father, you don't understand!" Lucy was beginning to get hysterical. "I'm not like you, I can't get involved in whatever it is that you do with the rest of those Death Eaters, I'm not like that!"

Yaxley got to his feet, his patience with his daughter waning.

"You do not have a choice, Lucy!" he barked. "You are either with or us or against us and I will be _damned_ if I have a blood traitor for a daughter! You will do as the Dark Lord commands, or bring his wrath down on us all, is that what you want?"

She flinched at his words. "No, Father."

"Good," he said relaxing. He smoothed down her unruly curls then pulled her into his arms for a hug. "I… I am proud of you. To catch the Dark Lord's attention is a truly high honour. I always knew you would do well for yourself, Lucy."

"What's he going to do to me, Daddy?" she murmured into his shoulder as she hugged him tightly. Her usually confident voice sounded so small, it broke his heart.

"I don't know, Lucy," he replied.

_3 hours later_

The room was cold despite the roaring fire lighting up the left side, as was usual in the Yaxley household. The furniture had been swept aside with one casual flick of his wand and now he waited, staring into the fire, for the girl who intrigued him so. Her talent was raw and untapped, and he was going to see that they didn't remain so for much longer. One particular ability gave him pause for thought: she was a Parselmouth. It was an ability that many had assumed was passed down only through the line of Salazar Slytherin himself… but he pushed those thoughts aside with a shake of his head.

Nagini slithered towards him. _The girl is outside the door._

He frowned and turned to the double doors opposite him. His followers knew not to keep him waiting, Yaxley had clearly been remiss in reminding his daughter of his expectations. That would have to be rectified. With a quick gesture of his wand, the heavy doors slammed open, revealing his visitor.

Lucy had been waiting outside the doors, trying to work up the courage to enter. Once she had entered the room in front of her, she knew her chances of coming out alive were slim. _Breathe in… _She tried to stop the images of Nagini, ready to strike, her jaws wide open, entering her head… _Breathe out… _She jumped and let out a small startled cry as the doors banged open, giving her no other option than to step forward inside. Much to her surprise, her shaking legs didn't give way as she walked. She cleared her throat and wiped her sweaty palms on her plain black robes; something moving out of the corner of her eyes caught her attention but she refused to look.

"You are late, Lucilla."

His rasping voice filled the large room, the only other sounds were her rapid breathing and the crackling of the fire. She risked a glance up at him and wished she hadn't. He was regarding her with a harsh expression, his wand drawn. She was old enough to know the Unforgivable Curses, she was also old enough to know that the screams she had heard coming from this very room in the past had been caused by them. And that the man standing in the room with her was the one who had cast them, with unerring skill.

"I do not tolerate unpunctuality," he hissed. He raised his wand and she instinctively flinched.

"_Come here," _he ordered. Her legs seemed to drag themselves slowly and painfully forwards as if they had gained a life of their own until she stood just a few feet away from him. He moved his wand downwards and she was forced to her knees onto the cold wooden floor.

"_Your father clearly has not taught you proper respect," _he hissed. The doors now behind her flew open again and Lucy turned her head to see her father hurtling toward them and crashing onto the floor, breathing deeply. Tears sprang to her eyes, she bit her lip hard to keep them from over-spilling and angering the Dark Lord further.

"On your feet, Yaxley!" he snapped and her father struggled slowly to stand up, his ankle looked twisted from the fall.

The first lesson: The Cruciatus Curse. The screams rose high from Yaxley House that night.


	4. Nightmare Becoming Reality

**So this chapter made me sad to write :( mostly cos I share Lucy's phobia so the thought of needing to watch that... yikes... **

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><p><em>25 June<em> _1981_

Lucy skipped along the old dirt path behind the house, her 'wand' clutched firmly in her small fist. The wood behind the house was her favourite place to play and now Father had given her a wand at last she could go and practice her spells without any of the grown-ups around.

"Halt!"

More out of surprise than obedience, she skidded to a stop and stared up at the tree where the voice had come from.

"Who's there?" she demanded, brandishing the branch her father had given her as her first wand, in an attempt to make her stop asking for one. "Come out!"

A small boy dropped out of the trees with an "Oomph!" and straightened up, cradling his left wrist. He sniffed a little and Lucy saw tears swimming in his clear blue eyes.

"I can fix that!" she said immediately, forgetting this boy was an intruder in _her_ play area in her excitement at getting to cast the spell she'd seen used the other week. He looked at her warily.

"You're not big enough to be a doctor," he said accusingly, his too-long red hair falling into his eyes.

"What's a doctor?" she asked dismissively. "Look, I've got my wand!"

"That's a stick," he scoffed.

She opened her mouth to argue then realisation dawned. "You're a Muggle!"

"No I'm a Catholic," he said with confusion written across his face. "Is that a bad word? Cos I'll tell."

"It means you can't do magic," Lucy said pompously, pleased she could do something he couldn't. "I can."

"Magic doesn't exist," the boy replied, and began to walk down the path.

"Yes it does! And I can do it!" she cried after him indignantly. She ran after him, trying to remember the spell she'd heard the strange man use on her mother when she'd been sick and pointed her 'wand' at his injured wrist. "Croosho!"

The boy looked at her, pity clear on his face. "See? Nothing happened. Magic doesn't exist. Neither does Santa by the way."

"Santa?" she echoed, her turn to be confused. "It shoulda worked… I saw the healer use it on my mother. Lemme try it again."

"Healer? You a gypsy or something? Get lost." He turned away from her and kept walking. Lucy glared at the back of his head and pouted. Muggles were strange people.

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><p><em>1 April 1996<em>

Yaxley strode into his study and picked up the nearest fragile object. With an angry yell he threw the snow globe with all his might at the far wall where it smashed, leaving tiny shards of glass and pieces of glitter stuck to it. He felt the despair rising up from within him and didn't fight it. Instead, he sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands letting the tears flow freely.

First Hannah, now Lucy.

He couldn't do it again. There had to be some way of changing the Dark Lord's mind, he thought, knowing straight away that was hopeless. He had worked under him for long enough to know that once someone crossed him, they got no second chance. No mercy.

If only you could be so heartless, he chided himself angrily. Then you wouldn't have a daughter to get this emotional about in the first place!

_It's all your fault! If you had put a stop to it then nothing like this would have happened!_

___But he knew Lucy well enough to know that something was bound to happen like this. He could have locked her in her room - actually, now that he thought about it, he _had _tried that - but she would still do what she wanted. And not even the Dark Lord could break her of that habit, so what hope did he have?___

His girl was doomed from the start.

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><p><em>3 August 1994<em>

_"You are weak!"_

Lucy struggled to her feet, her cheeks wet with tears, and raised her wand again: "Crucio!"

The terrified boy huddled on the floor let out a sharp cry and his arms and legs began to twitch. Exhausted, Lucy couldn't hold the curse any longer and dropped her wand with a clatter. Sobs wracked through her body that she couldn't control. She saw Voldemort approach the fallen boy and a flash of green light lit up the dark room, making her sob harder as he approached.

_"I am disappointed, Lucilla."_

She could hear the displeasure in his voice and her still aching muscles almost groaned at the prospect of more punishment. He reached out and gripped her by the throat, applying enough pressure that she started to panic and claw at him in a futile attempt to free herself.

_"I though we would be making more progress by now,"_ he continued. _"Yet you continue to have_ _difficulty with the simplest of tasks. What would make you concentrate further, I wonder?" _

A twisted smile appeared on his face as she choked and he once more called out to his familiar. As Nagini slithered away from her spot beside the fire, Lucy tried fervently to extricate herself from his grip, letting out despairing sobs. The Dark Lord began to laugh and released her throat, grabbing a handful of her hair before she could fall he twisted her round to face the hungry snake who was fast approaching the corpse of their latest test subject.

"Watch!" he ordered, holding her tightly against him almost as if to physically absorb and feed on her fright. Lucy was frantic as adrenaline pumped through her body. She wanted to run, but was pinned to the man of her nightmares, his hot breath on her neck, his long fingers wrapped painfully in her hair as he forced her to watch Nagini devour his latest victim. The poor boy couldn't have been much older than she was.

When it was all over she collapsed against him and with a noise of disgust he let her fall to the floor.

"Weak."

"I am not weak!" she cried, still sprawled on the floor. With surprising agility, she drew her wand and yelled, "Cru-"

But it was cast out of her hand and bounced to the other side of the room before she could get out the rest of the curse.

"Stupid girl," he spat. "Get up! The lesson is not finished."


End file.
